


Welcome to Battle School.

by ZenzaoDLP



Category: Ender's Game - Orson Scott Card, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-24 06:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZenzaoDLP/pseuds/ZenzaoDLP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A century ago, an alien armada appeared from the depths of space and threatened the human race with complete extinction. As the Muggles were driven toward greater and greater desperation, within the Wizarding World the decision was made to emerge once more and provide the necessary aide to keep them all alive.</p><p>But even magic is not infallible, and despite their confidence and pride, the Bugger army would have won in short order were it not for the final gambit of a single wizard- the hero, Albus Dumbledore.</p><p>In the many decades since the Bugger armada was extinguished, a brittle alliance has held out between humanity in the fear of another, perhaps even more terrible assault upon them from the stars, and in the modern day, this union is known as the International Fleet and Wizarding Council, or IFWC.</p><p>Children the world over are gathered by the IFWC and taken to the esteemed, next-generation school in the sky to be trained for spacial warfare when the time comes, and in the hope that the alliance' bonds will be strengthened beyond the reach of earth-based doubts and old stigmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sound of loud voices was a common one for little Harry Potter, a scrawny 5 year old boy who was diminutive even by the standard imposed by the law- not that it was against the law to _eat_ and _grow healthy_ , only that the rations be used sparingly due to the limited amount available to their district.  
  
He was used to not eating very much because of this, but if he were set next to his cousin, Dudley, the comparison between the two of them would seem to make the other boy a year or two older due to the healthy baby fat clinging so easily to the bones.  
  
Today the loud voices seemed to be arguing as they entered through the cupboard-closet set beneath the stairs. Harry stirred as his name seemed to rise among the noise more than once, and old instinct had taught him that it was better to stir and answer when his name was called than to hide away and try to avoid the matter.  
  
He slid off of the sleeping bag and underlying inflatable mattress in the large space and pulled his secondhand reading glasses on from the tiny shelf his aunt had installed there a year before, after the men in the large imposing white robes had arrived for a few minutes one day.  
  
Harry had been on his way home from school and only caught a glimpse of them as they stepped around the corner of Number 4 to look in upon Number 5, but one of the men had turned his head over the shoulder and looked upon him with that piercing blue gaze that was for ever after etched into his mind.  
  
Things had improved a little overall after that.

His aunt didn't berate him as usual for getting a better grade than his cousin, and she also didn't make him watch her cook dinner that night in order to pick up how to do it. When he stepped into his cupboard that night he noticed a little shelf for his glasses beside the lumpy pillows, and a newer looking sleeping bag, and the light didn't flicker like it usually did when he shut the door and settled down to rest.  
  
His uncle was upset about it for the next few weeks, and his aunt had a limp in her step for a month even though she usually kept her posture upright-proper and lady-like, and whenever she looked at him, Harry thought he saw something akin to the look in the white-robed man reflected there back to him for a moment at a time before she would look away and start to order him to do a chore as usual.  
  
Eventually things returned to normal, including the serving size of their lunches and dinners being regulated to only just include him.

Harry was happier for it, though. He still ate as much as he was used to getting _and_ he had better stuff in his cupboard room, and it had remained that way in the months that followed.  
  
He still heard the voices of his aunt and uncle argue from time to time, but they were not quite as... loud wasn't the proper word for it, but it was all he could think of that fit, as they were today.  
  
He slid the door to his cupboard open and looked out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and heard the voices clearly now.  
  
" _That brat is the reason my wife has only been able to bear one child despite our desire for two, and_ now _you say you want to take him away,_ after _the irreversible surgery has been performed? I won't tolerate it!_ _Where the bloody hell were you a year ago when it still mattered!?_ " Uncle Vernon was close to shouting at the other person.  
  
A quieter tone met his, but it was no less... different, more passionate?  
  
" _You were well aware of the chance that he would be chosen for the program after-all, Vernon Dursley. It was only a year of time to wait before you committed yourselves to the necessary operations to render further children unavailable- though I must say, the Council appreciates the gesture._ "

The man paused a moment as if to let that sink in, then continued.  
  
" _The state of your first son could only have ensured the second would be just as unfit for command. I'll be quite sure to make a note in his records should Dudley Dursley's name ever come up for recruiting ten years from now._ "

Though Harry couldn't see it, he could almost _feel_ the tension that had permuted the living room when he finally walked closer to it and peered around the corner.  
  
A white-robed man sat alone in the middle of the couch as he stared over to the loveseat where Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were huddled, with his cousin squatting down against the armrest.  
  
Unlike the two who had visited before, this man had a startling grim black gaze, with smooth black hair down to his neck and a slim stick of wood sticking out of the belt at his waist.  
  
Uncle Vernon didn't take well to be addressed in such a manner. His thick fists were clenching and unclenching in a way that meant he was preparing to physically break something, and from the concentration on his face, Harry thought it was clear that the white-robed man was the desired target.  
  
As if attracted by the thought, the man glanced over and took in the sight of him peering in cautiously. "Ah. Just the subject we were debating over. Come in, Harry Potter." He instructed, clearly an order and not an invitation.  
  
His aunt and uncle turned to glare at him heavily as he approached, and he glanced between the two opposing forces with a bit of questioning before the white-robed man gestured to the couch.  
  
"I won't accept this, do you hear me? I refuse! That little bastard has cost me a second child and I won't allow him to go off and be treated like a prince with the rest of your kind! He's going to stay right _down here_ and live like a _m-muggle_ until he comes of age!" whatever the strange word was and what Uncle Vernon meant by 'down here', he seemed quite intent to punish Harry for something he hadn't even done.  
  
The look on the other mans face hardened, and the tension in the air increased between them.

"It is unfortunate for you, Vernon Dursley, that your wife has already signed the agreement form- and being the only _direct_ blood relative, it was her signature that we required to initiate procedure," he said.  
  
As his uncle turned to Aunt Petunia in a mixture of dismay and anger, the man drew the stick of wood at his waist and waved it twice through the air, and conjured a sheet of paper that was clearly written with her delicate and practiced script.

Then he stated calmly, "At the time of the surgery among all those forms agreeing to go through with the operation, you read and signed the waver to your nephew's rights of well-being and continued up-bringing should we, the Fleet, come for him. It has been three hundred and fifty-nine days precisely since that point, and we have indeed come."  
  
Aunt Petunia buried her face in her hands at the sight of the form, muttering beneath her breath about things he could not hear, and after seeing his wife's confirmation of the facts Uncle Vernon's face flushed to a terrible shade of puce as he snapped up to his feet with surprising speed for his bulk.  
  
In the next moment he had snatched the paper from the air and was attempting to rip it apart with all his strength, his fingers gripping and digging in as he gnashed his teeth together viciously.  
  
Harry felt a sense of dread as he watched, knowing that when his uncle was through that something bad would indeed happen to him, but to his evident curiosity the sheet twisted and turned every which way yet it did not tear even once or look very wrinkled when Uncle Vernon stopped and panted several seconds later.  
  
"You may continue to waste your strength, Vernon Dursley - it was charmed unbreakable the moment we received it, so you know - or you can sit back down like a reasonable muggle and let things proceed as they are clearly going to." The white-robed man said at that point.  
  
If looks could have killed, everyone else in the room would have probably been stricken down at that point as Uncle Vernon glared heavily at them.  
  
He made one final desperate attempt to prevent anything from happening and lunged forward, slapping the sheet at the other mans face as he reached down to encircle the whole of Harry's throat in his other hand.  
  
Wide green eyes stared up into paralyzed and thinned out blue, and for a long moment Harry couldn't breath for the tight grip cutting off his air, but then the man next to him had his stick cutting through the air, and slowly the fingers released their stranglehold and his uncle backed up to sit down heavily into the loveseat again.  
  
Rubbing at the soreness, Harry found the pain seeping away as the stick moved and, unbeknownst to him, a faint glow suffused his neck as the injury was healed and checked over for any left over pain.  
  
"Seeing as you have invalidated _any_ laws regarding your own protection during these pick-ups, I could quite easily have you turned into a pawn for a game of our chess without seeing the slightest reprimand from my superiors, especially once they verify my memory of these events in due time. What do you say, Harry Potter? Would you like to see your uncle turned into a chess piece?" the white-robed man asked him curiously.  
  
Harry blinked. "Sir?" he asked unsurely, staring up at him and the stick in hand.  
  
"Yes, I suppose that wouldn't do. I think we'll merely impart a county-wide draw-back on supplies for the next few years, courtesy of the Dursleys. That should be punishment enough- the scandal and embarrassment, along with the scorn they will bare from the neighbors." He said and stood up, the sheet of paper disappearing as it had appeared before.  
  
"There are some things we should discuss in another room, Harry Potter, regarding what has happened today and what the sheet of paper represents for your future- but they could wait if we get a simple question answered here and now," the man said. Harry stood up as well.  
  
"Seeing the way your uncle has reacted today, would you feel safe, let alone happy, staying here until you come of age at seventeen?" he asked.  
  
Harry didn't need to think about it for more than a moment or two. "No, sir." He answered honestly. The man didn't smile, but he looked a little better around the eyes at hearing that.  
  
"Very good, Harry Potter. That is all we needed to know- follow me." Walking out into the hall way and then to the front door, the man glanced over his shoulder to make sure Harry was doing so, then stepped out onto the front porch and continued on to the edge of the yard.  
  
Harry paused on the threshold and glanced back at his cupboard room, wondering about the rest of his stuff in there, but the slight sobs coming from his aunt out of the living room made him shiver uncomfortably and he carried on.  
  
"Prepare yourself for one of the first senses of magic you will have experienced in four years, Harry Potter." The man said simply when Harry caught up to him at the edge of the yard.  
  
"Magic?" he repeated curiously. The man stared at him for a moment before answering.  
  
"You did not question how the paper appeared or did not tear? Ah. I see." He answered himself after looking into Harry's eyes for a few seconds, drawing a faint pain therein before it vanished.  
  
"Yes, Harry Potter. Magic. You are a wizard just as I am, and you'll find what the the ins and outs of that meaning are in the time ahead. Take my hand, take a firm breath, and prepare to take your first step into Apparation." The man told him.  
  
Harry did as he was told and a few seconds later blacked out from the sensation of being crushed to death.  


* * *

  
When he woke up, Harry was in a bed in what looked to be an infirmary. Around him were several other children, though there were just as many empty beds that looked to have been unneeded and unused.  
  
A silvery-white haired boy was already standing around and examining things closely, while a bright red-head was looking very ill and clutching at the bed sheets tightly. Next to him was a round-faced boy that reminded Harry of Dudley.  
  
In fact, come to look at them all, most of the other children looked rather like Dudley- that is to say, healthy and well fed with plenty of meals at regular intervals.  
  
The only girl in the room was a proper blond, with as much of a look of dissatisfaction as he had ever seen from his aunt.  
  
He slipped out from beneath the bedsheets and swung his legs over the edge, and it was about that point that the white-robed man appeared from no where in the middle of the room. Harry jumped back in surprise as the other children showed similar signs of distress.  
  
"I see you are all _mostly_ up and active. Weasley, stop slouching behind the sheets, because if you didn't want to be here you shouldn't have said yes when asked." The man said. He was the same one that had picked up Harry.  
  
"For those of you unaware of why you're here," and the man looked briefly over one shoulder to stare at Harry, "it is because of the war occurring in the depths of space, a war between the human race and an outside enemy fierce enough to unite muggle and wizard together to combat it."  
  
"You are here because we, the International Fleet and Wizarding Council, have deemed you worthy of having the necessary traits to help the war effort in the years ahead. It has been found that obtaining an early enough start will allow us to shape those characteristics most useful to our purpose and grind out the ones that would ruin you." The man continued with barely a pause to breath.  
  
"In less than one standard earth-side hour, each of you will be joining me on the way to the School. Thankfully, as wizards, this means the trip will be a smooth and simplistic journey of Apparations. The muggles who will join you in due time have the less fortunate route of relying on machinery to boost them up through the atmosphere."  
  
At that point Harry spoke up. "Sir, didn't we use Apparation to get here?" he asked cautiously.  
  
The man looked at him flatly. "Did I say I was through speaking, Potter, or that you had permission to address me yet?" he returned sharply.  
  
Harry blinked and frowned. "N-no, sir, but-" he began only to be cut off.  
  
"Than do us all a favor and shut your mouth until I ask for questions, or you may enjoy the trip like the muggles." Having temporarily put the boy in his place, he began to speak again only to find himself interrupted.  
  
"Sir, I want to ride with the muggles. I thought I was dying after taking your hand." Harry said.  
  
"... You have put me at a dilemma, Potter. Clearly I was expecting too much of you to think you would handle Apparation at such a young age like your fellow wizards would- certainly, no one else has fainted since I have been on the job of retrieval. If I give you what you want I may hold my word, and yet that defeats the purpose of punishing you at all." The man said neutrally.  
  
Harry just stared up at him in confusion over why he was reacting this way compared to the more open result earlier that day, if it _was_ the same day.  
  
"Very well. Unfortunately for you, that destination is several hundred miles away from here, and that means at least one Apparation if I felt like being hasty. I think _two_ will do the job well enough to ensure no _mishaps_ or _splinching_ occurs." And here the man smiled cruelly down at him.  
  
Harry leaned back into the bed and felt his stomach tense up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry receives his first taste of what the world will be like for him in the years ahead.

"Now that we have settled that matter, it is important that you know here and now that violence acted out against your fellows and lessers will not be tolerated outside of training purposes." He said to the group as a whole.   
  
"You are not irreplaceable regardless of your upbringing, and we have no compulsion to keep you at the School should you turn out to be an inconvenience. Is that clear?" he asked, looking from one child to another.  
  
A chorus of varying "Yes, Sir," answered him, including a reluctant one from Harry.  
  
"Very good. I expect to see great things from each and every one of you- the very best you have to offer. This war allows nothing less."  
  
After another moment or two the man scanned the room for a moment and then continued with where he had been intending to go before being interrupted previously.  
  
"While the School was originally meant to house wizards alone, it was adapted to the modern and technologically-rising muggles following the original scuffles with the prime fleet a hundred and ten years ago." He told them all.  
  
"You will all learn some degree of actual magic while at the School, but the focus is no longer solely upon your education of our finer arts. Indeed, it is more akin to preparing you for the combat of spacial warfare- there is no silly wand-waving in the midst of a steel ship, where you've no clear path to the opponents defenses." The man told them all before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small gold watch on a chain.  
  
He examined it for a moment before returning it to his pocket and striding over to Harry.   
  
"I will return in due time to pick up and deliver the rest of you to the School. In the meantime I expect you to mingle and forge an understanding of your own education and skills between one another, as you will all be class-mates upon arrival." He said over one shoulder.  
  
"Is that clear?"  
  
A chorus of "Yes, sir," answered him again.  
  
"Very good. Potter, take my hand." He directed at Harry.   
  
For a moment Harry wavered - if they had to Apparate at least twice more, wouldn't he be better off staying with other wizards his age? Others who were as inexperienced as he was?  
  
"There are no second-chances, Potter. You wanted the muggle way, and that is the way it is going to be for you." The man told him lowly. Harry grimaced and took the proffered hand.  
  
A moment later, his world collapsed down to a pinprick of muddy darkness, and his lungs screamed out in desire for air.  


* * *

  
Harry pitched over and collapsed to his hands and knees on the ground, his head aching and his eyes screwed shut tightly against the sensation.  
  
He gasped in as much air as his tiny lungs would allow as his stomach tried to pitch and roll with last-nights dinner, and it was only just so that he was able to clamp down on the feeling.  
  
Above him the man watched in silence for another few seconds, then reached down to grip him by the upper arm and lift him back to his feet.   
  
"That, Potter, is why most of the children are informed not to eat for at least twenty-four hours before departure. I suspected you wouldn't be so susceptible given your meager meal size, but with the situation as it was there was little enough time to wait the full time frame - I am glad to see you won't throw up so easily, as the trip ahead will be drastically worse on you than mere Apparition." He said in a tone more akin to his friendly attitude from before.  
  
Harry didn't trust it this time, inhaling and exhaling heavily through his nose to make sure his food stayed where it belonged, and he wouldn't risk answering it besides until he knew he wouldn't be reprimanded again.  
  
For a moment silence hung between them before the man nodded a fraction in approval. "Very good. I give you permission to speak, Potter." He said.  
  
Harry grimaced and finally opened his eyes.   
  
Before them was a stretch of hills covered in overgrown grass and even a tiny lake, with a large black metal fence surrounding the property. Hanging off of it some ways ahead was a sign, but what it said couldn't be read from behind, and they didn't stay around long enough to bother.  
  
After another moment and nothing forthcoming from him, the hand around his upper arm momentarily tightened and then the world crushed down into a black void once more.  


* * *

  
Murmurs swept through the crowd of people surrounding the black wire fence with the 'No Trespassing', 'Fleet Property', and 'Violators will be turned over to Wizards on sight' signs clearly on display.  
  
Most of the people were family of the gathered children about to board the marvelous piece of technological engineering several dozen feet away from the fence.  
  
It was unexpected to see a fully grown man appear out of thin air among them, especially one holding a tiny child in their arms, and those nearest shrieked in surprise and panic.  
  
"Out of the way!" the man ordered in the kind of precise, militant-clipped tone that was capable of reducing an uppity new recruit to backing down all but instantaneously.   
  
" _Wizard!_ " several of the nearest crowd-goers exclaimed as they spread away from him like a disease.   
  
The shout was picked up by others, but not everyone was cowed by his white-garbed appearance or the stature he held.  
  
One man threw a punch that would have surely broken several bones if he weren't shot in the shoulder and sent crumbling to the ground, all in the span of roughly one second, and the _crack_ of the gun only registered after the _crash_ of the body hitting pavement.  
  
A loud voice rose up from the man with the gun a little further ahead and behind the fence.  
  
" _Get back, and the next one who tries to break our fucking treaty gets it in the knees! UNDERSTOOD?_ " the voice shouted at them.  
  
Between the show of violence and the threat of worse still, the crowd dispersed and allowed the wizard and his unconscious charge to the front of the fence and up to the gate set therein.  
  
A grizzled old man with slightly tawny-brown colored hair approached and slid the heavy key into position, turned it until the gate clicked, and offered a hand over the non-visible border between toward the wizard afterward.   
  
"Sir?" he asked uneasily from up close. "I thought we had all the children for this trip already..." he trailed off.  
  
The wizard handed Potter over, and the guard carefully took him over one shoulder while keeping his gun in hand. "Based off of our shared reports, your quota _was_ concluded. This one seems to have a problem adjusting to the way of things through the more... efficient way of travel, however." He explained simply and turned on the spot to vanish.  
  
The muggle grimaced as he was dismissed.   
  
A moment later he turned the key to reset the wards around the perimeter and stepped back toward the shuttle.  
  
"Kid, you better turn out _good_ , because I'm going to get a shitstorm dropped on my plate in a few hours for accepting you." He murmured to the unconscious child.  


* * *

  
When he opened his eyes again, his body hurt worse than before.   
  
He couldn't hardly see, his breath left a dull ache in his chest when he inhaled and exhaled, and his bones themselves seemed to have been bruised from the travel.  
  
He groaned pitifully.   
  
"Looky-looky, the _magician's_ awake!" a low voice said in a carrying whisper from beside him.  
  
It was echoed around the area and Harry brought up a hand to rub at his fuzzy-vision weakly.   
  
He realized after a moment that his glasses were missing and blinked, patting the now-realized soft white surface around him for them.  
  
The voice next to him lowered the object into his line of sight, and he reached a blurry hand out to take them, only for the glasses to be yanked up a few inches.   
  
"Hey!" he protested over a cough.  
  
"Whatsamatter, _magician_? Can't you just _summon_ them to you?" the voice taunted smugly.  
  
It left a pit in Harry's pained stomach in reminder of the way his cousin Dudley could be at times, especially whenever Harry did better at school and tried to hide the grade report before they returned home, knowing that his uncle would berate him for 'cheating' or otherwise 'hoodwinking the teachers'.  
  
He lunged up for them only to get slammed back into what was probably a seat by a belt around his waist, almost choking him on the pain it brought on, and he doubled over with an arm resting against the surface tightly.  
  
Spittle slipped off his lips and dripped down to the floor.  
  
"Huh." The voice asked and a finger prodded him in the side, causing a low whimper of pain to escape Harry.  
  
"Heh..." a moment later and a hand slid over his back to rest on the neck of his shirt.   
  
Any concept that this was meant to be a comforting gesture like he had seen his aunt do for Dudley before vanished when he was yanked back by the shirt and promptly slugged in the stomach again by the belt, forcing another heavy gasp past his lips with a spray of blood this time.  
  
Where was the man, the wizard who had brought him here? Why was the other boy getting away with this?  
  
He coughed violently again as the effort was repeated, then the grip over his shirt released instantly as his glasses were shoved hastily into his lap.  
  
"Whats going on here, Potter? What are you doing throwing up blood on my shuttle?" a clearly-adult toned voice asked mildly.   
  
Harry couldn't answer him through the pain and his near-inability to breath, and the voice of the boy beside him piped up.  
  
"He was playing around, sir. Tried to jump up without realizing he was belted in - you can see the bruises, sir." The other boy lied with what was probably a very pleased grin, and Harry realized right there that Dudley wasn't alone in the world - that there were others just like him who took pleasure in pain for no just reason.  
  
"Did he, now?" the new adult asked and stared down at Harry.  
  
A moment later he reached down and grasped the folded up glasses by the edge of one hinge, holding them up to the light for a moment as if examining them for blood, then flipped them open and slid them over Harry's nose and ears.  
  
"I think that's due cause for a report to the Fleet. We can't have idiots interfering with the further education of our best and brightest, after all. Sit tight, Potter, Malcolm, and you'll get the results you deserve." The man said.  
  
He strode back off as Harry lay bent over, panting painfully, and the boy next to him, Malcolm, grinned even wider.  
  
"Y'hear that? You're out, _magician_! Shouldn't have tried to dirty our presence with your filthy magic! Now you're gonna _have_ _to_ stay down here on earth!" Malcolm gloated in another low, carrying whisper, much to the approval of those around.  
  
Harry couldn't answer vocally, but as he felt more blood gathering along his lips to slip free, he turned his head to the side and spat it at the other boys legs.   
  
" _HEY!_ " Malcolm screeched in protest, wiping viciously at his lower legs. "You stupid little asshole!" he lunged down to grip Harry by the back of his shirt, but managed to restrain him self at the last second and lean back as the sound of footsteps carried.  
  
"Sir! Sir, look what the filthy brat did!" he whined and gestured at the blood running down his legs to his ankles.   
  
The Fleet officer examined it for a short moment.  
  
"I can see, Malcolm. I'm afraid we don't have the required sanitary equipment on board to neutralize the bacteria in his blood, so if you'd stand up and follow me to the door we can have you taken care of at the office a short distance off-shuttle." The man said.   
  
Malcolm hastily complied, making sure to lean on Harry's back and shoulders with one hand as he stepped by, and he was directed quickly to the exit and down the stairs by another officer waiting there.  
  
The door was promptly shut and locked a few seconds after they hit the tarmac.   
  
Malcolm glanced back as the loading stairs were drawn back and away in confusion, but his desire to get rid of the contaminated blood was more pressing for the moment and he followed the officer to the aforementioned office a block off.  
  
He was just stepping over the threshold when the shuttle's engines began to ignite and fire.   
  
"Wha-- hey! Whatayadoing? I'm still here!" Malcolm complained as he turned back to face the moving shuttle.  
  
The officer gripped him by a shoulder.   
  
"You've been dishonorably discharged from all future service." The officer told him flatly.   
  
Malcolm's eyes widened and he began to struggle, watching his future in the military rise up into the air desperately.  
  
Only after it was little more than a dim spec in the sky was he pulled into the office and thrust into a hard seat, ahead of which sat a desk and a single tv.   
  
"You can't do this! That little asshole did this to me!" Malcolm shouted.  
  
The officer stared at him harshly and grasped the near-by remote sitting atop the tv, and clicked it on. A moment later the camera footage of the incident played, showing from the moment Harry arrived to the actions of the other boy being assaulted.  
  
Malcolm paled.  


* * *

  
"Alright, listen up!" the man in charge of the shuttle said after locking the door. "That's _one_ of you brats disqualified from all future service in our esteemed Fleet, and all for what? Abusing the opportunity presented for a little worthless bullying, and worse - discrimination." He said in a tone changed from the mildness of before.  
  
"You may not like it, but here's a little honest truth, children; the human race as a whole would not exist today if it were not for Potter's side of the equation. Magic is the sole reason we were not eradicated when the first of the Bugger fleet struck against the earth over a century ago, and if you think we could have won without their aide, _think again_. Our best nuclear warheads barely dented the least of the Bugger ships."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /End chapter. 
> 
> As you can see here, a fair few muggles do not appreciate the way wizardkind exists, as a whole. Many of them fear wizards and magic for what it can do, and most especially for what it did in particular- win the first battles and save everyone, where muggle technology faltered.
> 
> Battle School is in part to get those kinds of unhealthy notions under control by forcing muggle and wizard children to work together and get prepared for the combat down the road, and make sure the military sees things from a better standpoint. Those in the Fleet may still dislike wizards, but they won't pick up a fight with one or tolerate such.
> 
> Not everyone is like that, and there are some that do appreciate the aide wizardkind has given the rest of humanity since coming out of hiding, but a century is a very short period to grow accustomed to being made a placeholder where as before they were the top of the food chain.


	3. 1/3rd of Chapter 3: Launching.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shuttle finally takes off and docks at Battle School, while the Fleet Official on board delivers a much-needed speech.

The shuttle grew quiet in the absence of the officer's voice. Most of the other children in the immediate rows, those who had quietly cheered while Malcolm assaulted Harry, now looked anywhere but at the boy himself.

When it seemed like enough time had passed for the message to sink in, the man in charge spoke up again.

" _Huh_ ," he said derogatorily. "I suppose a few of you have two braincells to rub together inside of those thick-looking skulls after-all. So let this be an early lesson that you would have had to face as soon as we docked with the school anyway, boys and girls - the Fleet is above any old earth-based stigmas you may have clung to until this point, be they nation, race, or blood-status. Only the best will survive to man our ships and give the orders that will make or break the human race one day, and if you aren't among the best than you're little better than the worst and we _will_ ice you at a moment's notice. Understand?"

Barely a single voice piped up in response.

"I asked if you understand, children. Don't tell me you've all gone mute - you were so willing to endorse a doomed endeavor and _now_ you can't even determine when its appropriate to shout, so we may as well not have spent the fuel to come down here in the first place. Understand?"

Everyone met that with "Yes, sir!" and most were half-choked, half-furious, or all-but-deadened with humiliation and regret.

The Fleet officer examined them one more time with a scathing scowl, lingering just a moment longer on Harry then the others. Then he turned around, snagged a side-rail, and threw himself in one smooth leap toward the vacant seat at the very front of the rows. It was built specifically large enough to house a full-grown man, and he barely had enough time to strap himself in before the shuttle began to rumble.

Taking their cues from him, the passengers scrambled to fit the three-tiered belts into the respective latches in time. One secured over each of the shoulders and the third across the stomach, respectively, and Harry had to undo the last so he could fit the first two into place correctly.

His fingers shook as the rumbling redoubled, and again, shaking the whole aisle and rattling the bones in Harry's body against each other terribly. His stomach knotted up and he very nearly vomited - but the sick-up got caught in his gut on the way and was slammed back down again by a sudden, unrelenting _weight_ driving back and _down_ upon his body.

Panic flooded through him as he shoved the third belt in place just before his hands were flung back and driven into his chest just beneath his throat.

This was not like the horrifying weight that Apparition had been, which was everywhere at once and crushing inward. Having experienced _that_ situation a few times already barely prepared him for _this_ ; his eyeballs were and nose were flattening, his lungs labored to inhale after he exhaled, and his skin seemed to be stretching and thinning. It was wholly different from being squeezed into a ball by the hand of gravity, for he seemed to be caught beneath an insurmountable anvil instead.

Others were taking it even less favorably than he was, however; the officer's verbal sparring had battered their defenses far enough that they crumbled beneath this onslaught. Pained gasps filled the back of the shuttle. Rasping. Desperate and short-lived wails as they expelled all the air in their lungs and abruptly blacked-out.

It was a small and never-ending minute before the vibrations fell away and the anvil lifted away. Harry fell limply against his harnesses and swallowed in a blissfully full breath. He closed his eyes for the remainder of the flight, but he could not sleep even if he had wanted to.

* * *

Docking with the School took only a little time. Enough for Harry to finish recovering from the abuses of gravity and breaking through the stratosphere and exosphere.

The Fleet officer unhooked his own belts and swung feet-first toward the ceiling while the final alignments were coming together, then, seemingly at ease by his disorientation. And thanks to the lack of gravity while they were still disconnected, he held there without the slightest trouble.

"I suppose this is as good a time as any to discuss the notions of earth-based gravity and why it is utterly illogical to sustain that sense of direction out here," the officer began to stride over the seats and children filling them, matching each set of eyes as he passed, pausing to check the pulse of those who were unconscious and making a brief note on the pad around his left wrist.

The next-nearest child beside Harry leaned away and began to wretch at the latest violation of all they had known; and like a set of dominoes, a chain reaction filled the rest of the shuttle as a wave of inexplicable nausea passed in the wake of the man. Having already endured enough gut trauma recently, Harry felt surprisingly at ease watching the unnatural act.

"As many of you are aware, we are now in zero-gee. Most of the Battle School _does_ retain a slight gee to it to keep us all from floating away into ceilings and walls, except for the battle rooms. It is hardly my place to spoil _that_ particular surprise. However, there are many sections, corridors and more, that have both an _up_ and _down_ orientation available at once, if not one that is _side to side_. It will not be uncommon for you to pass your peers and seniors in this way, and classes are organized rather, shall we say, haphazardly."

Again, the officer kept his gaze on Harry for just a moment longer, idly examining him, and then he was passing to the next row. Those who were still dry-heaving were ignored except for the disdain directed at them in expression.

"It is my responsibility to remind you that in such low-threshold gee's, physical melee and sparring is strictly prohibited. It would not do to throw your opponent onto a spiked chandelier and then try to claim ignorance, after all."

Having reached the end of the shuttle, the officer launched himself down the regular aisle and caught himself with one hand on the first row of seats, swinging back around to land on his feet easily, and he paused before entering the door ahead to give his final words.

"In short, children, the next decade and change of your lives, provided you last that long, will be spent learning spacial warfare in all of its many diverse ways. And wouldn't you know it, but I expect the wizard is going to be the only one here not to disappoint us." He smiled and added, "Good luck, boy. Do your duty well."

Young as he was, Harry finally realized this man was no better than the wizard that had collected him from his aunt and uncle's home. He had not gained any favors despite all of the officer's words - the death-glare directed upon him from every direction he could see confirmed that. They hated him _more_ hotly now than when Malcolm had been cheered on.

Even Dudley had not wanted him dead; those nearest, he could see, would have loved nothing more than to strangle him if they could have gotten away with it. But Malcolm's situation was just as well etched into their minds as it was his own. He was safe so long as he was in the shuttle. After that... he hoped he could find somewhere safer, where other Fleet officers' would be present, or perhaps the other children he had seen with the wizard. They wouldn't hate him if they were also like him, would they?

A last and ominous shudder rippled through the shuttle from tail-tip to nose. And like a switch flipped on, the faintest pressure pushed him down into his seat again.

Then the door at the the back of the shuttle swung open, and with a wave of invisible power, every belt holding them in clicked loose and nestled out of the way in the edges of the seats. Harry blinked down at them, then up again when a soft set of footsteps echoed along the aisle. They stopped just past the door, but he was still focused on the seat belts, realizing it was more magic. A second short burst that he was barely aware of passed through him and startled him to perfect alertness.

A woman's voice, slightly high-pitched and unhappy, issued orders. "Those of you just awoken, follow Officer Filch to the medical bay to review your status. The rest, follow me."

Harry scrambled out of his seat. He caught sight of a tall, long-black-haired woman in the same kind of strange white robes as the wizard who collected him just before she passed through the doorway. Without hesitation he hastened after her - even if he hadn't been worried about the other children, he did not want to fall behind.

At the doorway a long metallic rectangle served as the docking tunnel. The woman had not waited, but was still striding toward the hatch at the far end.

* * *

**A/N: No, this isn't the full chapter. Much like with Curse of Hamunaptra, I'm posting what I have available so far to remind my readers that, yes, I am still working on this. I'll edit with the full chapter when I have it finished. That said, for a sample of spoiler-y goodness on what is to come in several chapters, see snippet at Chapter 32 of An assortment of Oneshots and other ideas(FFN, s/7383454/32/)  
**

**Author's Note:**

> /End chapter. Harry living with his Aunt and Uncle instead of his parents will be dealt with down the road.


End file.
